Monsters
by SigSig
Summary: Searching for a way to cut the threads that tied them to the world, to people, to God, and to...


"You 'n' me, huh?"

Schuldig had to laugh, just a little. Farfarello had always been the most resilient of the Schwarz, so it was no surprise that he would be the one left standing at his side. Night was beginning to close on the bay and each second saw its black ink infiltrating the pink of the sky. The sea rippled with unease in the wake of the tower's collapse, though the beach was quiet besides; its fall attracted the attention of no one.

Knowing the Weiss, they had managed to escape in time, but...

"Are you really worrying about them?"

Tipping his head back, resting his weight on his palms, Schuldig looked up at Farfarello, giving him an amused smile. "What, are you trying to read my mind now?"

"They're fine, probably," he said. Schuldig knew better than to mistake his look of indifference for one of confidence. Farfarello was just as unsure about their partners' whereabouts. The only difference between the two of them was Farfarello's inability to care.

In the time they spent waiting, their clothes had almost dried – _almost_. Before he even made it ashore, Schuldig had discarded his white suit jacket to make it easier to swim. It was strange to think that it was out there, still being pulled aimlessly toward the depths of the sea by the whims of the currents. Crawford and Nagi, too...

It was just that he couldn't feel them anymore. Their thoughts weren't there, no matter how far he stretched out his telepathy's hands. Wishing for the end of all humanity, it shouldn't have mattered. One or two people – no matter how well-acquainted – wouldn't matter in the least once the world was resting in flames. In a little while, he would stand up and leave and go wherever the next job could be found, taking Farfarello with him.

Farfarello...

Come to think of it, his mind felt unusually quiet. Lately, it was getting more and more difficult to separate his thoughts from those of strangers. It was usually difficult to even be around Farfarello, his mind a jumbled mess of thoughts that shifted constantly, holding no shape or balance. But, recently... Ever since that time...

"Hey," he said, just thinking out loud, "were you being serious with those old Eszett folks? You're still serious about getting' back at God or whatever?"

Before waiting for a response, he delved into Farfarello's mind, seeking out his answer before he could voice it.

Nothing.

So much nothing that it was unsettling.

"You want the end of humanity, don't you? I think that will suffice," Farfarello replied.

That wasn't really an answer. Schuldig wasn't satisfied. "What's with you, huh? Ever since you killed that woman, you haven't been the same. It's weird, you know. You stop believing in God or something?"

Farfarello's solitary amber eye narrowed. "'That woman'? Rude. Please, don't forget – that woman was my..." Gradually, his words stopped and he glanced aside. His expression still appeared unreadable, but Schuldig suddenly found himself able to piece together some of the thoughts that were fluttering around inside the empty space in his head. Having nowhere to go, Farfarello rested his arms over the railing at the edge of the cliff that overlooked the water. "I'm just Farfarello now."

Right... That day, Farfarello came back to them as someone else.

No, that wasn't quite right. Maybe it was more accurate to say that he was more himself than he'd ever been until then. He had always been quiet, but his silence was now marked by pensive, structured thought. He wasn't just some psycho anymore; he was a more dangerous kind of killer – the kind who was completely aware of himself, his actions, his motives.

When he went deeper, Schuldig was able to brush his telepathy against memories that had once been buried, held tightly under mental padlocks. Having confronted those memories, Farfarello must have been able to make peace with himself. Or something like that.

"I see," he said, smiling to himself. "I didn't know you were a mama's boy."

His teasing was ignored that time. Just the mention of her caused Farfarello to become serious. "What possessed me to kill my family? Why did my mother have to die? Those are the only questions I have now. In a world with questions like those... How can there be a God?" he asked, looking over his shoulder at him as though he were challenging him to find an answer that wouldn't sound hopeless. "I would rather this world end. It has no direction. No reason. It's been abandoned since its beginning."

Even more amused, Schuldig hummed curiously. "Hey, if there's no God, then who're you gonna hate?"

"I'll hate myself, the sinner."

"Sinner, huh? Who do you think's gonna judge you when the world is ending? If there's no God, you can do whatever you want. You can live it up like a king in this God-forsaken world until the bitter end."

With a tilt of his head, Farfarello turned back around, leaning his hip against the railing, his arms crossing over the front of his wet shirt. "Perhaps. What point is there in living, anyway? The meaning of life... If it isn't determined by God, then it's chosen by the individual. We're all born on this Earth, suffer, and die. Without judgment to make us sacrifice our happiness for the sake of others, everyone would do as they please."

"Ah..." He really got him there. "I got it, I got it. That's why religions exist; no God equals utter chaos and hedonism. All the more reason for us to destroy this place, though, am I right? I don't want to live in a place governed by someone else's archaic rules."

Farfarello nodded, a grin twinging the corners of his mouth. "Correct. And if there _is_ a God..."

"Then we'll be the ones who smash his precious plaything." Laughing out loud, Schuldig pushed his weight forward and stood. He moved closer to Farfarello, drinking in the pleased look on his face. "Hey, you know, I don't believe in God, but say that there is one, right? Wouldn't that be amazing? I'd love to be the man who could say that he bested him at his own game."

Just like that, Farfarello's smile left his face. He sniffed. "Don't get the wrong idea, Schuldig. This isn't a game to me. Supposing that God exists, I want him dead as vengeance for my family – for my own existence. They died because of me. And because he created such a monster, I cannot forgive him."

"You've thought all this through already."

How could he have expected anything less? Farfarello's life was preoccupied with his revenge. His recent focus must have been why his thoughts had become clearer; his objective reaffirmed and decided with clarity after the reemergence of his memories.

In their decaying world filled with villainy, there were worse people he could be stuck with.

Taking another step toward him, then another, Schuldig placed himself toe-to-toe with Farfarello. He wasn't all that scary up close, especially when he was wet. His thoughts seemed obvious to himself, but it must have seemed confusing to Farfarello when they made him laugh. Lifting a hand, he snaked his fingers around the knot of Farfarello's tie. "I can't believe you're still wearing this," he said, a playful grin on his mouth. He gave it a light tug, pulling him closer by it. "What if it is just me and you now?"

Even that close, nothing changed in Farfarello's expression, only, his scars appeared a little brighter, a little deeper when they were right in front of his eyes. "Isn't that fine?" he said, closing his visible eye, speaking as though it were rhetorical. "Those two could be so incompetent. If they're dead now, I won't be surprised, and I don't think my life will be impacted very much by their absence."

He was always so...

Practical? Impersonal?

Schuldig appreciated his professionalism, but that hadn't been what he meant. "I was trying to sound romantic, you know."

Farfarello's eye opened, surprised, vaguely. "Oh."

Farfarello relaxed his jaw, let him hold his chin and slide his tongue inside of his mouth, reciprocating in a way that felt rehearsed to the point of automaticity. Sometimes, it was like he was only pretending to be human, but Schuldig knew better. A cold-blooded killer Farfarello was not. He was just a child who lost control and a man who couldn't regain it.

It was easy to see once Farfarello had uncovered those old, dust-covered memories. He could probably feel him groping around their fragments, but he didn't say anything, his eye placid and silent as he moved his tongue against his. Though Schuldig could inject his own thoughts into others' heads, Farfarello didn't share in his ability, so he wasn't able to reach back into his mind to find out what he was thinking without him making it openly known. That tongue that searched his, the fingers tipped with blunt, cracked nails that pushed lightly against his chest as if curiously trying to dig between his ribs – they must have been searching for the things he yet lacked.

Farfarello was imperfect. Incomplete.

He was malleable – if not stubborn.

It wasn't until Schuldig released his lips that Farfarello released him from his relentless stare. It wasn't that Farfarello was afraid of what Schuldig might do while he wasn't looking – he trusted him quite a lot. It was just that he needed to look, for the sake of observing, for understanding. He was like a baby bird, interpreting information from the expressions on people's faces so that he could pick from a list of prearranged responses.

He was difficult to understand, but easy to predict. That was why Schuldig liked him.

"We could stay here for a little while more, just in case they show up," Schuldig said, though he had little hope of seeing them.

Face straight, Farfarello cocked his head. "I'd be fine with leaving. We don't need to stay. If they're alive, they're alive. We'll see them again if they are. If they aren't..."

 _'Then whatever,'_ was probably what he meant to say, though something seemed to stop him. He may have noticed the way that Schuldig was looking at him. Schuldig hadn't thought he cared, but each second he spent waiting for them to return seemed to add importance to their existences. They were just the only people who had ever seen him as a human worth a damn, so... He didn't owe them anything, especially if life existed only for the sake of seeking one's own interests, but, even so...

Giving a sigh that didn't feel as aggravated as it came out sounding, Schuldig placed a hand on Farfarello's shoulder, massaging the junction of his neck absently. "I was just going to suggest that we could stay here a little longer and partake in some public sodomy. Seriously, how much more obvious do I need to be?"

For a beat, Farfarello was quiet, then gave an amused snort. "I see. That's a fine excuse." Hooking a finger in the knot of his tie, he began tugging it loose.

It really pissed him off that he was able to see through him like that. Farfarello wasn't supposed to understand anyone that well.

It may have just been an excuse, but at least it would get them out of their wet suits for a while. They hadn't seen any other people since they came ashore, so he wasn't worried about anyone seeing them. No one but God would be watching, if he were watching at all. That was probably the part that had convinced Farfarello. Schuldig just didn't want to imagine that he was simply humoring him... Which he probably was, if he didn't lie to himself.

Without any preamble, Farfarello removed his tie, his shirt, shoes, and everything until he was fully undressed, then hung what he removed over the railing to dry further. He laid down in the sandy grass and looked up, watching as Schuldig discarded the last of his own clothing. The way Farfarello just laid there and waited could've easily been mistaken for obedience, but his actions were too mechanical and scripted to hold any such meaning. He was just doing what people did.

Schuldig stood for a moment and looked at him. His dick could get hard for a body like that; hard muscles pulled tightly over bone, pale flesh covered in jagged, self-inflicted scars. His eye patch was his last vestige of modesty, but even that made him appear mysterious and alluring. Schuldig traced the bare toes of one foot over Farfarello's middle, up over his ribs, and grinned at his expressionless face.

"You weren't kidding when you called yourself a monster, were you? There are things about you that make you seem human. It's all on the surface, and I can feel it somewhere deep, deep down in you, but everything clouding the in-between is pure monster. I think that's why I like you, Farfarello. You're... Relatable."

Farfarello flicked his eyes up and a small smile graced his scarred lips. "From one sinner to another, hm?"

Was that all it was?

Getting down, placing his hands and knees on either side of him, Schuldig knelt over him and leaned down, breathing in the night air and the scent of the sea that clung to Farfarello's skin. He kissed him again, just satisfying himself. Farfarello was slow to respond, turning on slowly like a computer awakening from hibernation, gradually recognizing what was expected.

He couldn't be called romantic, perhaps having no concept of what that even meant, but Schuldig liked that too. He liked this easily-manipulated mannequin of a person.

Separating their lips, he looked into his eye. "It's going to hurt." He didn't have to say that, knowing that Farfarello wouldn't feel it, but he smirked and said it anyway.

When Farfarello joined Schwarz, all Schuldig heard was that he couldn't perceive pain, but he wasn't given an explanation. Rather than the result of some nerve entanglement or a supernatural birth defect, Schuldig wondered if Farfarello had trouble perceiving pain the same way he had trouble perceiving the world around him. It could've been his childhood trauma that caused it, but there was no way to say, and Farfarello wouldn't or couldn't tell him even if he knew the answer inside somewhere.

Schuldig wished he knew its cause, because, if it were a result of trauma...

If Farfarello unraveled his mind further, Schuldig feared that he would feel pain again.

He wasn't worried about Farfarello. He was just afraid of...

A hand closed around his neck, fingers pressing into his skin, and pulled him down, bringing him back down into a kiss. As always, Farfarello's eye was open, searching without any definable emotion within it, but there was meaning in the forceful way he kissed him. It wasn't like a normal kiss, wielded like a tool, used as a device to communicate a feeling that was almost human.

"You couldn't hear my thoughts, could you?" Schuldig asked against his mouth, asking out of genuine concern that his thoughts may have slipped out of his own mind.

Farfarello shook his head.

"So then..."

Schuldig didn't like it. He didn't like that Farfarello could be perceptive. He wasn't used to that, and it bothered him. It gave him an uncomfortable itch.

Reaching up, he brushed a hand through his hair, pushing it back behind his headband. He gave a start when he remembered that his sunglasses were missing. He'd almost forgotten about that. When they got back into the city, he was going to have to buy a new pair. It was no wonder he didn't feel right. Without his shades, he wasn't himself.

Pretending to be unfazed, he nipped at the corner of Farfarello's mouth and ran his tongue over his bottom lip. "I want to get out of here just as much as you. I couldn't stand those wet clothes anymore. It's going to be annoying, having to put them back on again."

He was stalling, but he wasn't lying. The thought of putting those clothes back on was awful. Farfarello didn't seem to be in any hurry, but if he stalled for any longer, he was going to start testing his patience. Night was moments away, the sun just barely visible over the edge of the horizon. Soon, they would be covered by the blackness of the sky. Even God wouldn't be able to see them if they embraced in that darkness.

Hooking a leg around the back of Schuldig's knees, Farfarello pulled him closer, rolling his hips up for them to meet, moving like a reflex. Schuldig's cock ached for that emotionless face, seeing his own saliva glistening on his mouth in the waning light. Holding his hip, he moved with him, rubbing his cock against the curve of his hip, and leaned in to bite at his neck, grazing his teeth over the scar-toughened skin. There was no way he could hurt him, but it made him feel oddly relieved to hear him release a breath that wasn't a groan.

If Farfarello lost that thing that made him unique, he wouldn't be useful to them anymore. And if Crawford and Nagi were dead, there wouldn't even be a 'them' anymore. It was just him and Farfarello, so he needed him to stay the same.

His first thrust left him gasping, clutching Farfarello's shoulders in a way that would've hurt a normal person. Even if Farfarello couldn't feel the pain, he was tight inside, and without anything to ease it, Schuldig was questioning whether this had been a bright decision. The only person he was actually hurting was himself. Once he had himself in all the way, he took a few moments to recenter himself, but when he tried to move again, he found it even more difficult.

"You were too eager," Farfarello said, idly playing with some of the hair that had fallen over Schuldig's shoulder.

He hadn't even used his fingers first. It would've felt strange to do that if he didn't have any lube handy, but now he was seeing the folly of that excuse. Farfarello sure didn't mind, though. Without the pain, he even seemed to be enjoying it; that raw stretch must have felt pretty good as long as it didn't hurt.

"A body like yours was made for sinning," Schuldig commented, wishing he didn't find that so funny.

"You're right. I exist to make him suffer the way he's made me suffer. I hope he enjoys watching us desecrate these sacred bodies that he created." Licking his lips devilishly, he moved against him, pressing himself down firmly onto his cock. He felt tight beyond belief, but Schuldig's cock was harder than ever, straining within his tight walls.

Taking a breath, he let the resulting white haze clear from his eyes and looked down at Farfarello. "Is that why you were always slashing yourself up? I always wondered what that was about. I thought it was nonsense, like you were doing it just because you could, because you couldn't feel the pain." He ran his fingers over his arms, raising his brows when the tips of his fingers detected the hard shape of metal beneath his skin. "I see you're still armed."

"Everything is with a reason, Schuldig. You thought I would stick knives in myself for fun?"

"In my defense, I couldn't read your mind that easily."

"You need to read someone's mind to understand them?"

Yes, he wanted to say. There were too many things that humans kept hidden within themselves. There were even things that they hid from themselves; Farfarello was proof of that. Even if he didn't have his telepathy, how could he be expected to understand someone like him? Schuldig didn't understand him – not entirely – and he preferred it to stay that way. He didn't like the thought of Farfarello becoming someone unfamiliar.

But he didn't tell him that he was right. Farfarello, being so suddenly perceptive, was likely able to tell that he was right without him having to say it.

...He could've always been that way.

The thought occurred to Schuldig and sent a shiver up his spine. That lifeless eye had always been watching him and observing. Just because the thoughts he encountered in Farfarello's head hadn't made sense to him, that didn't mean they didn't make sense to Farfarello.

Farfarello's smile made him feel vulnerable.

"What's wrong, Schuldig?" he asked, resting his head in the grass, looking up at him with that smile.

Growling, unnerved, Schuldig grasped beneath Farfarello's knees and pushed them back, spreading them apart wider. Farfarello just chuckled, looking no worse for the wear as Schuldig tried to go deeper and harder into his raw passage. If he kept going at that sort of pace, he was going to make him bleed, but he had a feeling that wouldn't be a problem for either of them. He felt like he was the one who was losing his mind, his cock being squeezed so tightly by Farfarello's body that it made his head feel dizzy.

He didn't want to look like he was admitting his mistake and giving up, but the best that he could manage were a few short thrusts at a time. Any deeper than that and he felt like he would be tearing the skin off his own dick. For his own part, Farfarello was relaxed, his mind quiet, his body pliant beneath him, allowing Schuldig to lift his hips and thrust however he pleased. He kept one hand loosely wrapped around himself, watching him with fascination.

Schuldig could barely stand to look at him, feeling as though he might have his soul snatched away by that stare. He didn't know about the power of God, but he knew how dangerous Farfarello could be, and he was feeling more and more wary of him. He felt confident that he had no intentions of harming him, but that was the most frightening thing.

Feeling his blood coursing fire-hot through his veins, he finally willed himself to man up and looked him in the eye. "What do you want, huh?" he asked, keeping his grip on Farfarello's knees firm.

"You and I want the same thing," he replied, stretching languidly. Lifting his arms over his head, his skin pulled to show Schuldig the outline of the blades sunk in his arms. "Scratching and clawing and killing, indulging in depravity and devastation until the very end... You don't care about God or getting back at him, though. You just want the world to be fair."

"It can't be."

"Of course," Farfarello said, resting his hands over Schuldig's shoulders. "You can't fix a world this blighted. It needs to be razed."

He wasn't wrong. Scratching, clawing... Fighting and fighting until he was the last man drawing the last breath; that was all he could hope to accomplish in a world so far gone. Only Farfarello could say things like that so plainly with a pale blush on his cheeks as if it were pillow talk. He was in love with carnage.

Tuning out even his own thoughts, Schuldig focused on his movements, feeling the warm, slightly damp flesh beneath him, hearing nothing but the sound of the waves in his ears. Releasing one of Farfarello's legs, he slipped a hand between them and wrapped his fingers around his cock, stroking it for him as he moved his hips. Even though it was still raw, it felt easier once Farfarello's body had become more accustomed to having him inside.

He set a rhythm guided by the waves, pulling out and easing back in slowly, gradually, feeling each of his inches sinking inside. Just when he thought he was back to himself, a thought that wasn't his own cut through the silence in his mind, sounding breathless and enraptured.

 _Good._

Schuldig cursed himself. He cursed his weakness.

Not a second to spare, he pulled out and came, gripping himself tightly, shooting cum over Farfarello's taut stomach. As he worked at catching his breath, his mind once again filled with the racing of his own thoughts, he watched as Farfarello stroked himself, playing his fingers in the mess he left on his stomach. Even if Schuldig wanted to look away, he wouldn't have been able to, transfixed by the smug look of satisfaction on Farfarello's face.

When Farfarello came, slightly arching his back off the ground, he finally broke eye contact, squeezing his eye closed tightly, digging his teeth into his lower lip. In his head, Schuldig felt a sudden overwhelming impulse and winced, holding a hand to his temple. It was like a burst of psychic energy had been released directly into his mind at that moment, and it felt...

It felt...

"Good, right?" Farfarello asked, already sitting up and collecting himself.

He didn't know what to say, but he agreed. He just nodded.

Going back to the railing, Farfarello retrieved their clothes. He came back and tossed Schuldig's things at him. "The sun's gone now. We can't stay here all night. We need to go." Before he pulled on his shirt, he looked down at himself with a grimace and chose to use his shirt to wipe off his stomach instead. People were probably going to stare at him if he went back into the city without a shirt, but that was his choice. And it was kind of Schuldig's fault.

After pulling on his clothes, still feeling reluctant to leave, Schuldig walked back to the railing along the precipice. He looked over, straining his eyes in the darkness, and tried to scan the beach. All he saw were the waves that ominously lapped the sand, but, suddenly, from somewhere out of that darkness, he heard a familiar voice.

 _"Schuldig? Is that you?"_

It was Nagi...! Next to him appeared to be Crawford, laying unconscious on the sand.

"Hang on a minute! Farfarello and I will come to you!"

Just when he was starting to think that it might be time to give up...

"I bet you're happy," Farfarello said, so close that it made Schuldig jump.

"Stop trying to read my mind..."

Giving Schuldig that strange smile, he began to walk. "Let's go."

Thinking to himself, Schuldig watched his back as he retreated into the shadows. Really, he was afraid of what they were turning into, he and Farfarello.


End file.
